Page 93 of A Storybook Wedding

It is only when I have been delivered to my apartment building intact that I am able to breathe again. Because I am shook from the ride, coupled with the events of the past few hours, I make myself a brick of ramen noodles to fill my belly, wash it down with two consecutive double shots of whiskey (a trick I save for only the most dire of circumstances), and go to sleep immediately.

I wake up the following morning at 8:30. Out of habit, I reach for my phone, and when I notice that there are no new notifications, I realize I never turned it off airplane mode. I switch it over to Wi-Fi and see that I have a new voicemail and several new emails.

The voicemail is from CJ. “Hey,” she says, in a quieter-than-normal, sad-but-also-nervous tone. “You’re not in the van. Maggie says you left last night. Why didn’t you tell me? Please give me a call. I hope you’re okay. Thanks,” she sighs. “Bye.”

Out of instinct, I hit the Call button. It goes straight to voicemail. “Hi!” chipper CJ sings into the recording. “Sorry I can’t make it to the phone right now, but please leave your name, number, the time you called, and a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks! Wait for the—” and then the phone beeps.

“Hey,” I say, somber with hangover undertones. “I’m just calling to let you know that I’m okay, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I was just trying to give you some space, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that effectively if I stayed on the island. Anyway, I’m home. I imagine you’re on your way home now too. I guess, um, call me whenever you feel like you want to.”

There’s so much more that I want to say, but I don’t know how to articulate what I’m feeling, so I hang up instead.

Very mature, I know.

An alcohol-induced night of sleep in my own bed combined with memories from yesterday has resulted in me feeling pretty shitty about the bleak outlook of my foreseeable future.

I put on a pot of coffee and get in the shower, hoping to wash some of the negativity away—and that is where I am when I remember the note I jotted down in my phone during my tailspin through the sky last night.

It’s so crazy that it just might work, I think.

After drying off, I grab my phone and call my agent. I don’t even bother with her work line. She’s probably still trying to get above water with an inbox full of holiday queries and general email catchup. Instead, I call her cell.

Trina went to Bali for Christmas, courtesy of the fifteen percent she earns on my royalties.

Consequently, busy or not, she picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Nate,” she says in a chipper voice. “Happy New Year! What can I do for you?”

A smile turns the corners of my mouth up.

“Actually, I need a favor.”

“Anything for you.”

I pace my apartment, explaining who I need her to call and for what purpose. I am embodying the phrase, I’ll have my people call your people, something I never thought I’d need to do.

Alas. Desperate times.

I just pray to God that my idea works.

CHAPTER 19

Cecily

When I get back on land, my phone buzzes with a voicemail.

There was no cell service at sea.

I parked my car in long-term parking at the Point Judith ferry terminal. I schlep my bags off the ship, and by the time I get inside my vehicle, my hands are numb from the cold. I put the key in the ignition and let the car rattle, self-soothing its way to being warmed up.

As I wait, I put the phone on speaker and play the message.

“Hey,” Nate says. “I’m just calling to let you know that I’m okay, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I was just trying to give you some space, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that effectively if I stayed on the island. Anyway, I’m home. I imagine you’re on your way home now too. I guess, um, call me whenever you feel like you want to.”

Seriously?

After everything we’ve been through, that message sounds…about as cold as this car. Just trying to give you some space. More like just trying to use my words against me to justify dipping out in the middle of the night. Well, fine, early in the night. But still.

To clarify, when I said, I need some space, I just meant, For like an hour. I didn’t think Nate would leave the state.

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